Ideal Image: Snapshot, #2

by Freya Barker

  I’m almost asleep by the time he’s done with my other foot. My eyes pop open when I feel him lift them, kissing the instep of each of my feet, which sends shivers down my back.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he mumbles, his lips vibrating against the sole of my foot, making my toes curl, before placing them both in his lap. “I was hung up on talking about some things with you tonight, and things just didn’t exactly pan out as expected. I reacted like an ass. I’m sorry.”

  “Where did you go?” I ask, not quite able to help myself. “Just now I mean. I heard you come in.”

  “I went down to the bar. Did some soul-searching with the aid of a good scotch.”

  “And? Find out anything interesting?” I nudge him with my foot.

  “I did. I found out a couple of glasses of good scotch in a hotel bar costs almost as much as a room, and I discovered that I no longer can hold my liquor the way I used to.” I giggle at the painful grimace on his face.

  “Don’t tell me it’s hurting already,” I tease him.

  “Not yet, but I’m warning you, I have limited control over the things that come out of my mouth.”

  “I’ll try not to hold it against you,” I promise.

  “I’d be much obliged,” he says with a wink.

  The banter is relaxing and I’m comfortable, my legs stretched out, my feet resting on his thigh, and his arm reaching for me along the backrest. I touch his hand with mine, and as if by rote, our fingers lace together.

  “What did you want to talk about?” I finally break the silence.

  “You, mostly,” he says with a light shrug of his shoulders. “Your work, your life, your daughter... anything that matters to you, I want to know about.”

  “Not much to tell,” I admit. “I love the law, in all its forms, and from all angles, which is why I was able to work both sides of the equation. It taught me a lot. My life, well, it commonly consists of work and Makenna, with little room for anything else. So much has changed since the beginning of this year, and so much change is yet to come, I’m just focused on settling down.”

  “Makes sense,” he says, giving my fingers a squeeze. “You like Dolores, though? Being close to your brother?” I chuckle, because I’m actually surprised at how much I do enjoy small-town Dolores.

  “Never thought I could move away from the big city, but look at me now,” I joke, smiling. “I like it. I like that we’re not too far from the amenities that Cortez or Durango have to offer, and I really love the fact that I have not hit a single traffic jam since moving here.”

  “We don’t have many of those,” he admits, grinning. “What about Mak?”

  “Oh, she loves it here. It’s perfect for her; she has Ben, whom she adores, close by, and Isla’s uncle, Al, has become another important male figure in her life. She was sorely lacking positive male influence before.”

  “What about Mak’s father?” he inquires, and I resist the urge to shut down the conversation. It’s not like I didn’t open that door myself, and I won’t lie.

  “Let me first say that Mak is the best thing that ever happened in my life,” I confirm, before clarifying. “She’s the result of a college indiscretion. One that unfortunately has no face, no name, and little in terms of memory attached to it.”

  Nick’s thumb, which had been rubbing circles on my skin, stops abruptly, as his whole body stills. I look for judgment in his face, but there is none, just the same friendly impassive expression. The moment his thumbs resumes its stroking, I relax back in my seat.

  “So there’s no father in the picture,” I finish. “There never was.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Nick

  The moment I pull the truck up in front of Stacie’s house, Mak comes running out, the big dog at her heels. She pulls the passenger door open and leans in.

  “Let me see,” she demands. I’m about to tell her it’ll be a while longer before those bandages come off her mom’s face, when I notice it’s not her face she’s interested in, but her wrist. “Yup, it’s you,” she says, rubbing a small tattoo of a four-leaf clover on the inside of Stacie’s wrist.

  “It’s me, baby,” Stacie confirms, running her hand over her daughter’s short haircut.

  I observe as Mak helps her mother out of the truck, while I grab her bag from behind my seat. She’s very mature for a nine-year-old. At least she seems to be. I don’t really know that much about kids, I don’t have any myself and no nieces or nephews either. I guess this is not the first time she’s seen her mom wrapped in bandages.

  I’m realizing how scary this must’ve all been for the kid: the explosion, the multiple surgeries. Especially since, as it turns out, Stacie is the only parent she has.

  When Stacie shared a little about herself two nights ago, what she said about Mak’s parentage threw me. The fact she can’t remember anything, about that night, is perhaps both a curse and a blessing. I’m afraid though; that the truth has a way of floating to the top, no matter how much easier it would be to let sleeping dogs lie.

  I can’t wait too long. I’ll have to tell her soon.

  “How are you feeling?” I hear Jen, who was waiting inside, ask Stacie.

  I follow inside, after dropping her bag in the hallway, and see Mak installing her on the couch, spreading a blanket over her legs. I have to bite down a chuckle, because it is pretty damn hot outside to be needing a blanket, but I don’t have the heart to say anything.

  Seeing that she’s looked after, I step outside on the porch and give my dad a call.

  “Pops, how’s things?” I ask, when he answers on the third ring.

  “Interesting. But first tell me how she’s doing.”

  “She’s fine. Her doctor says to take it easy for a week or two, but that she’ll be good to go after that. The full effects of the surgery won’t be visible for another month or two, he says,” I fill him in on what I know.

  “Good. Glad to hear it.”

  “Now what was interesting?” I want to know.

  “Probably nothing,” he answers, but without a lot of conviction. “Remember that fellow I saw at the campground the other day? I think he may have been back last night. When I went to unlock the shed to grab the golf cart this morning, it looked like someone had tried to get in. The chain was cut, but the deadbolt on the door was still locked. It looked like they tried to force it.”

  “Did you call the sheriff?”

  “I did, but before he showed up one of the hunters camping down by the water’s edge walked up. He mentioned last night he and his buddies had come back from a night out in Cortez, drove by the shed, and saw someone sprinting away from the building. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but seeing me this morning made him curious.”

  “So what did the sheriff say?”

  “It was one of his deputies, and he said since nothing was actually taken, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do.” Pops sounds more than just a bit irritated. “I didn’t want to alarm Ben, and I knew you’d be back in town today, but I’m telling you, something fishy is going on.”

  “Okay, Pops,” I pacify him. “I have my overnight bag in the truck, I’ll get Stacie’s key to the house. Maybe I’ll just stay there for a few days. Keep an eye on things. I’ll give Drew a call too.”

  “Give me a call when you’re heading up and I’ll meet you there with the rest of the keys,” my dad offers, sounding a bit relieved.

  “Sounds like a plan, Pops. Talk to you soon.”

  I end the call and immediately dial another number. Drew Carmel is the sheriff of Montezuma County, and someone I’ve grown to respect over the years. He’s a friend of Ben’s as well, so when I fill him in and mention my plan to stay up at Ben’s place to keep a close eye on the place, he assures me he’ll be sending some extra patrols up the mountain.

  STACIE

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  I lift my hand to indicate I’ve had enough. I know Jen means well, but right now, I’m just exhausted.

&
nbsp; When they wheeled me into surgery yesterday morning, I’d had perhaps two or three hours of sleep the night before. I’d ended up falling asleep on the couch, my feet still on Nick’s lap. Both of us were cursing the next morning, with our necks and backs hurting from sleeping in awkward positions, and two perfectly good mattresses just steps away.

  Anesthesia seems to affect me more and more with each surgery, and this time it just seems to drag on, leaving me feeling sluggish and tired.

  I hear Nick and Jen talking behind me, but I can’t seem to focus on what they’re saying. It’s almost like being underwater, in my own little world.

  “Lie down.” I suddenly hear clear as day, as Nick’s face swims in front of my eyes. I feel myself being moved, and quickly close my eyes to a wave of vertigo at the sudden shift in position.

  “SHE’S AWAKE!” MAK YELLS right by my ear.

  “Shhhh,” I try, but at this point it’s moot.

  I crack open my one free eye to find my daughter hovering over me, a smiling Nick pulling her back.

  “Easy, tiger,” he says to her, with a wink for me. “Give your mom a chance to wake up.”

  “I’m okay,” I croak, my voice a little rough from a dry throat. I gratefully accept the bottle of water Nick hands me and take a deep drink. “God, that feels so much better. Thank you.”

  “Guess what?” Mak half screeches, or maybe it just sounds that way. My head is still a bit sensitive.

  “What?” I ask, playing along.

  “Nick said we’ll order in, but we had to wait for you to wake up. So can I have a milkshake? Please, can I?”

  I have apparently slept most of the afternoon. Sadly, I didn’t get a chance to thank Jen for looking after Mak and the dog, because she had to get back to the shop. The good news is that I feel a lot more myself now than I did earlier. That horrible fog has lifted and my senses are a lot sharper.

  Unfortunately that also means that I hurt like a son of a bitch. It feels raw, like someone took a giant cheese grater and used it on the left side of my face.

  Before I have a chance to respond to Mak’s request, Nick drops a couple of tablets in my hand.

  “Just T3s,” he clarifies. I guess I must’ve told him at some point about my aversion to strong narcotics. They make me loopy.

  I toss them back and take another long drink on the bottle, before turning to Mak.

  “I think we can do a milkshake.” I smile at her excited fist pump. “Who were you calling?”

  “That depends,” Nick answers. “I suggested The Depot, because they’re around the corner, but then your daughter here, announced she loves Sonic. If you’re okay for half an hour or so, I’m more than happy to pick something up at the drive-thru in Cortez.”

  “I’m gonna come!” Mak announces loudly, and I wonder what happened while I was sleeping that made these two thick as thieves.

  “Can you use your inside voice, please, Mak?”

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, looking guilty, and I turn back to Nick.

  “I’m fine. I don’t mind; if you don’t mind having my kid hyped up on the prospect of Sonic in your car. You think this is bad? Wait until the sugar from the milkshake hits her,” I tease, grinning when I see a shadow of doubt pass over his face. “Make sure she’s in the back. I don’t want her driving in front yet.”

  “Mo-om!”

  “No argument, missy,” I threaten when she starts whining. “I can also say no and make you stay home. Up to you.”

  Makenna is not a fan of my way of tossing the ball back in her court, but I do it every chance I get. I figure it’s the best way for her to learn she always has a choice, but that with every choice there are consequences. She likes the choice, but not always those consequences.

  In the end, she dutifully gets in the small seat behind Nick, but not without shooting a glare to where I’m watching them from the window.

  Also not new.

  “CAN I HAVE YOUR KEY to your brother’s place?” Nick asks, after dinner. Mak has already disappeared to the river, wearing her life vest and carrying her tackle box and rod. “My dad said there may have been an attempt at a break-in at the campground last night, so I think I’ll spend the night up there.”

  “Seriously? Have you called Ben?” I’m thinking my brother would probably like to know.

  “No,” he says, surprising me. “There’s really nothing urgent to report, and besides, I’m sure he has his hands full with Isla and Noah, and preparations for the funeral.”

  Shit. I can’t believe I forgot about Ginnie.

  “Of course,” I consent, quickly digging through my purse to find Ben’s keys. “You should take Atsa,” I suggest, when I hand over the key ring. “He’s a great watchdog.”

  “I might, if Mak doesn’t mind.”

  In the end, Mak is easily convinced. Especially when she’s promised a trip to see the horses on Nick’s ranch for tomorrow.

  “I need to help my dad with a few repairs,” he explains, leaning down with his arms braced on either side of me. “Won’t be more than a couple of hours, but I figure you might be due for a nap sometime late morning. I’ll pick up Mak and the dog and take them with me. They’ll have a good time, and you can sleep.”

  “Sounds good,” I agree easily, as I look up into his dark brown eyes.

  “Maybe when we get back, we can barter some favors.”

  I find myself squirming in my seat a little at the heavy innuendo in his words and the heat in his eyes. A kid is normally a perfect distraction from even the possibility of arousal, but she’s not here. Besides, I can feel the deep rumble of his voice everywhere.

  “What did you have in mind?” I can’t even recognize the sultry sound of my own voice.

  I’ve all but forgotten that half my face is swaddled in bandages, and the best I can hope for is perhaps seducing a mummy, but certainly not this large, striking man leaning over me. I’ve seen him in suits a few times, but my favorite look on him is this one; faded jeans and a fitted Henley, with the sleeves pushed up over a pair of strong forearms. I can’t seem to stop my hand reaching out to touch him. Even the shape of his skull is appealing, as my palm rubs his bald head.

  “I’ll cook you dinner,” he starts, lifting a finger to trace my bottom lip. I inadvertently run my tongue along the slight burn his touch leaves behind. He follows my move with great interest. “God, you make it hard.”

  “Sorry,” I whisper, not sorry at all.

  “I’ll cook you dinner,” he repeats, before lowering his mouth to mine, sweeping his tongue along the same path before slipping it between my lips. All pain is forgotten and what remains is the taste and touch of him, reducing my awareness to a pinpoint focus, while drowning me in sensation.

  “Ohmigod,” I mumble on an exhale, when Nick finally releases my lips and outlines the second half of the bargain.

  “And maybe after you could shave my head?”

  NICK

  When I said, “God, you make it hard,” I didn’t just mean leaving her.

  Certain parts of my anatomy are screaming for attention, when I finally pull my truck away from her house, and I have to adjust myself several times, while driving up the mountain, a stoic Atsa in the seat beside me.

  Before turning up the drive to the house, I decide to do a round of the campground. Make sure everything is kosher before I turn in. Other than a few lights illuminating the washrooms, the campground is dark and surprisingly quiet. I notice even fewer spots occupied than on Thursday.

  When I get down to the water, I pull the truck off on the side of the trail, and let the dog out for a sniff.

  I just step out on the dock when my phone rings.

  “How’s my sister doing?” Ben doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He’s feeling guilt for not being here; this is the third time he’s called since her surgery.

  “She’s doing okay. A bit sore, but she slept a good chunk this afternoon,” I inform him.

  “She awake now? Can I talk to her?”

>   “I’m not sure, I’m not with her. You should try her number.”

  “What do you mean you’re not with her?” he barks.

  “I’m just looking into a—”

  “You were supposed to be looking after her,” he spits out, cutting me off. “What kind of asshole move is that, to leave her alone? She just had fucking surgery.”

  I take a deep breath before answering; reminding myself it’s his own guilt that is yelling at me.

  “If you’d let me finish, I’d explain that we’ve had a couple of incidents up the mountain. My dad—”

  “Incidents? What incidents?”

  “Stop fucking interrupting so I can tell you,” I finally snap, running a hand over my head. “Christ, Ben, calm the fuck down.”

  “Hey, Nick,” Isla’s voice comes over the line. “I’m putting you on speaker phone, since I just shoved Noah in Ben’s hands so he won’t be tempted to throw things.” I chuckle at the mental picture I’m getting of a snarling beast, easily handled by his petite wife and even smaller baby son. “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “So Stace is good?” Isla asks.

  “She’s fine. I left her on the couch with Mak, watching some kind of reality show.”

  “The Amazing Race, I was watching it, too. She got me hooked...”

  “Are you gonna tell us what the fuck is going on there?” Ben barks impatiently.

  “Language!”

  “You kidding me? The kid can’t even find his own mouth with his fist, you think he’s gonna start cursing with it?” he says in response to his wife’s admonishment, and I’m having a hard time not to laugh out loud.

  “Thursday night Pops saw someone prowling around the campground, and then again up at the house.” I barge right in without preamble. “He called me and gave chase, but whoever it was disappeared in the woods. This morning he found the chain on the shed cut and evidence someone had been trying to break in. A camper mentioned seeing someone run off and the sheriff’s office was called.”